


Further shores

by dearly



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Ireland, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-08-13 22:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7988026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearly/pseuds/dearly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an attempt to escape past heartbreak, Killian Jones now lives a quiet life on the Irish coast. But when he begins to fall for a mysterious stranger, her secrets stir up old demons and threaten to ruin his chance at happiness once again. Inspired by the movie Ondine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _So hope for a great sea-change_  
>  _On the far side of revenge._  
>  _Believe that further shore_  
>  _Is reachable from here._  
>  _Believe in miracles_  
>  _And cures and healing wells._  
>  -Seamus Heaney

  ** _A few years before. A pub, London._**

 

_“I don’t know, Killian. I just have this weird feeling like he’s watching me or something.” There was a slight tremor in her hand made visible as she lifted the glass to her lips._

_“We’ll call the police—“_

_“No,” she said quickly, before sighing and pressing her fingertips against her temples. “No, I can’t involve them—yet at least. I mean it’s not like I have any proof. It’s more a premonition than anything real—like getting off the Tube and feeling his eyes on me, but turning around and finding no one there.”_

_Killian looked around the bar to make sure no one was watching them before reaching under the counter and pulling out a bottle of expensive rum that was rarely requested by any of the local patrons._

_She stared distractedly as he refilled her glass, her mind far away where he couldn’t reach her. He longed to give her peace of mind, to erase the scars of her past that still haunted her. When he’d once offered to go after the man himself, she’d made him swear never to do such a thing—_ It’s too dangerous, Killian.

_“Let’s do it then,” Killian said lowering his voice and leaning his elbows on the counter so that their faces were level. “Let’s run away like we’ve been talking about for ages. You know I’ve saved some money. There’s nothing keeping us here anymore. We’ll get a boat and sail around the world—just the two of us. He will never find you again.”_

_The lines in her forehead relaxed slightly, a flash of something hopeful in her eyes. “Really?” But her face fell again and the worry returned. “I don’t know—”_

_He placed his hands on top of hers, rubbing his thumbs gently across the cool skin of her knuckles. “Pack your things. Get everything sorted and meet me back here in a week. I’ll take care of everything else.”_

_Tears clung to her lower lids, but the fear remained. It made him uneasy, like some outside force was constantly looming over them eager to dash any spark of hope for their future._

_“Try not to worry, love.”_

_Wiping her eyes, she nodded weakly. “Okay,” she said finally, but he wished it hadn’t sounded so forced._

_The anxiety he felt peaked the following week when she didn’t show. He closed up the bar and waited outside for a few more hours but there was no sign of her._

_Despite her request to never contact her by phone, he tried calling but was only greeted with an eerily-cheery voice message. Further attempts to find her whereabouts through her other friends were also unsuccessful._

_The next night two suited detectives entered the pub instantly filling him with dread. It wasn’t the sort of place that Scotland Yard frequented. Even the local police didn’t enter unless it was to break up a fight._

_“What can I do for you gentlemen?” But the greeting was only met with a stern nod._

_“Do you know a woman named Milah Delaney?”_

_He swallowed, heart sinking. “Yes.”_

_They ushered him into a back room and confirmed his greatest fear. She’d been found dead on the banks of the Thames the previous evening. The cause of death had not been determined. Early autopsy reports indicated heart failure, but whether it was due to natural causes or from some outside force was still unclear._

_His hands trembled. She was gone and it was partially his fault. He hadn’t done enough._

_He was taken to the morgue to identify the body since she had no known family and then to a small room where he was questioned about their relationship and Milah’s activities in the previous weeks._

_He didn’t know how or why but if there was one thing Killian was sure of the moment he’d heard the news - it was who had done the terrible deed._

_“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Ms. Delaney?”_

_He looked at them darkly and clenched his hands into fists. “Her ex. She was terrified of him. He was…possessive.”_

_“You’ve met the man then? Know his name?”_

_“No. Never laid eyes on him and she didn’t like to talk about it. I only knew him by what Milah once called him after she’d had a nightmare: The Dark One.”_

 

* * *

 

The boat rocked gently in the calm waves lulling Killian into a dreamy disposition. He leaned back in the seat and stared out the window at the grey horizon. 

It was a nice change of pace being out on the water alone. Usually he had Smee and Flannigan helping him, but they’d both been called out to deal with an emergency plumbing situation for their other job.

Which meant today it was just Killian, his boat, the salty breeze, and his own dark thoughts. Propping his feet up on the dash, he grabbed his flask and took a swig of the deep dark rum making him remember why he usually had his crew on board assisting him. When he was alone for any length of time, he usually wasn’t sober.  _Not since—_

Throwing the empty flask aside, he stood with a huff and walked out onto the deck. Only work would help take his mind off it now. He thrived on the routine of it.

He set about preparing the boat for the day’s catch—getting the crates ready to transport to refrigeration, pulling in the slack of rope to avoid tangling with the net, and finally cranking the large hydraulic shaft to pull up the haul.  It took more effort on his own but the sweat and the pain were worth the trouble; it was the gratifying sense of accomplishment.

But as the net rose out of the water, Killian caught a glance of something tangled within that sent a shudder down his spine. A foot, _a human_ foot was sticking through one of the holes with flesh so pale revealing a web of purple veins beneath. _Jesus_.

He’d seen a dead body before. Just six weeks ago he’d found old Colin Maguire facedown at his kitchen table, a cigarette still burning in his fingers after his heart had given out. And another whose image in that cold, sterile morgue still haunted him to this day.

But this—he suddenly regret the alcohol that was now churning uneasily in his stomach.

Swallowing and willing the nausea away, he gently maneuvered the net onto the deck of the boat. Quickly, he peeled the nylon mesh away and was met with the form of a young beautiful woman—bits of seaweed caught in long blond strands of hair, a thin, saggy slip of a dress with a delicate floral pattern that clung to her small frame, a face with high cheekbones and an unreadable expression, slightly blue lips adding to her already deathly pallor. The color and the absolute stillness made his stomach turn again.

He stared for a moment mentally debating about whom he should alert first. _The coast guard? The police?_ Then he considered the correct procedure in such an unusual circumstance. _Should he handle the body? Check for ID?_

A flood of questions as to the identity of the woman and her circumstances dominated his attention at first but after the initial shock wore away his foremost feeling was anger. No one deserved it to end like this, dumped in the sea and forgotten. No one.

But suddenly one of the fingers twitched and then the another and suddenly the woman came to life with flailing limbs and choking panic.

 _Christ. How—_ He rushed to her and helped her to her knees so she could cough up the sea water in her lungs. She was shaking all over. _Cold, too cold_ , he thought. He shrugged off his denim jacket and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders, cursing himself for being lax with the emergency kit and not keeping a spare blanket on board. But there was nothing else he could do now.

The woman continued coughing and struggled to find her balance until Killian was able to help her sit on the deck and lean against a stack of crates.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you,” he said soothingly as he rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to keep her both calm and warm.

She studied him, hazy confusion in her eyes, and took several deep, but thankfully steady, breaths.

When he was confident that her breathing was under control, he stood and motioned toward the boat's interior. “I’m going to radio for help. You stay right here. I’ll be—“

A hand latched onto his wrist with a surprising amount of strength.

“No.”

He paused, caught off guard by the sound of her voice and the eyes that suddenly blazed with fierce determination.

“But I need to get help. You need to go to a hospital,” he sputtered.

“No. I don’t need to see anyone.”

This time he could detect an accent—American. _Odd_.

They stared at each other, her hand still firmly attached to his arm.

“But you— _you almost drowned.”_

“I’m _fine_ ,” she said through gritted teeth.

He thought for a split second about ignoring this, but there was something else he could see now. _Fear_.

“Are you in trouble?” He looked out at the sea half expecting to see another boat headed their way, but the waves were calm and empty. Where had she come from? Land was a mile off, at least.

She removed her hand and though she kept silent, it more even more obvious now—the fear. _Of what?_ he thought. 

He decided to change tactics. “Well, do you have somewhere you can go or someone I can call?”

Silence. Still.

He wracked his brain, but knew there was really only one solution for the moment. Without another word, he nodded and headed to the bridge to start the motor and bring them ashore. It was only a second before he heard her stumbling footsteps behind him.

“Where are we going?” she asked cautiously as the boat lurched forward.

“Home.”


	2. Chapter 2

The long trek up the rocky cliff provided Killian with plenty of time to second-guess his decision. 

He glanced behind him suddenly wondering if perhaps the whole ordeal had been some sort of drunken daydream, but his wits were proven intact and sober for she followed at a safe distance behind him and looking just as unsure as he about the situation.

What other choice did he have? The woman needed warm clothes and rest but refused any medical attention or outside help. It had surprised him that she’d come along at all.

A temporary fix – that was all it was. The rest he could figure out later.

“Well, here we are,” he said unceremoniously once they were standing in front of the small stone cottage that stood somewhat precariously atop the hill. “I hope you’re not expecting posh.”

When she only responded by staring suspiciously at the building, he took the initiative and pushed the door open revealing the sparsely decorated, but clean and comfortable space. A large main room was divided into a kitchen and dining space and a living area that included a fireplace and several overstuffed bookcases - his one extravagance.

Killian stood aside and allowed the woman to wander around and get acquainted with the space. Then, beckoning her to follow him, he led them down a narrow hallway and began pointing out the rest of the rooms.

“Loo’s over here. I’m sure you’ll be wanting a nice hot bath. Towels are in the cabinet. Spare bedroom’s just across,” he said gesturing to the door opposite the bathroom. “There’s some of my spare clothes in the drawers - help yourself to whatever fits.”

After he pointed out his bedroom at the end of the hall and a small closet containing a washing machine and drier, there was an awkward pause as they stood in the cramped, and suddenly intimate, space.

“Well…I guess that’s about it.” He ran an unnecessary hand through his hair, a nervous tic he hated, and then turned to walk away when she spoke up for the first time since the boat.

“Thank you.” Her voice was low and sincere and the directness of her gaze made him nearly have to look away.

He nodded, clearing his throat. “I’m Killian, by the way. Killian Jones. And it’s no trouble.”

“Thank you, Killian. I mean it.” This time her voice was softer but he was fully aware of her hesitance to offer any information in response.

He hesitated again. “Well I have some business to handle at the docks. Will you be okay here alone for a bit?”

“Yes.” A pause. “I’m used to it.”

He nodded sharply and walked away still feeling her gaze upon him.

But yet, and he didn’t know why, he knew that she was not going to rob him and run off. He knew with only a few words exchanged that he could trust her and that rare feeling suddenly made him aware of his own loneliness.

 

* * *

 

Returning a couple hours later, Killian took a slight detour before heading to the cottage and stood on the edge of the cliff to look out at the sea. The wind had picked up and the sky darkened making for a more violent scene. 

Living on his own with only the sound of the sea crashing on the rocks for company often caused his mind to play tricks on him. His drinking didn’t exactly help matters.

Occasionally he thought he saw her standing up on the rocks with her dark hair whipping around and hiding her face from view. Though he knew she was only a figment of his imagination, in his less sober state of mind he still sometimes called out to her ghostly form. _MIlah_.

He wanted to believe in an afterlife, that her cruel fate on this Earth hadn’t been the end. Believing that her soul still existed in some form kept him from going mad because the reality was that he hadn’t been able to save her. And furthermore—he hadn’t even been able to avenge her death. He only proved to be a failure at everything he attempted.

But with the current situation at hand, he refused to let himself sink any further down that dark path and shook the thought from his mind as he turned back toward home.

This woman was no vision. She was sitting in one of the armchairs with his heavy atlas in her lap. The long blonde hair was still damp, but freshly washed and free of sea matter. She’d put on a cream-colored cabled jumper and a pair of his old pajama pants with the bottoms rolled up. Thick socks covered her feet which were tucked up snugly underneath her. There was a bit of pink in her cheeks now providing him some relief from his guilt about not taking her to a doctor. She looked as healthy as he could’ve hoped given what her body had been through.

“Dinner,” he said holding up a paper sack. “Thought you might be hungry.”

“Starved,” she said with the first hint of a smile he’d seen on her.

As she inhaled the fish and chips and gladly accepted part of his own portion, Killian wondered when she’d eaten last and felt guilty once again that he had not offered her something earlier. There was a comfortable silence between them as they sat and ate, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be sharing a meal after the extraordinary circumstances of their meeting only a few hours before.

When they were clearing away the greasy paper, she cleared her throat and suddenly blurted out, “I’m Emma.”

No last name nor any other information, but it was a start. “Ah,” he said. “And here I was about to start calling you Muirgen, after my grandmum— _she who was born of the sea_.” 

She turned sharply and busied herself with wiping off the counter.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“

“No,” Emma said. “It’s okay. It’s just that, well…I know you have questions, but I can’t really tell you about what happened yet. I’m—I’m not good when it comes to trusting people.”

“Aye, I know the feeling.” It was the understatement of the year.

“You do?” Her eyes flickered up at him, big and hopeful.

The corners of his mouth curved into a teasing smile. “Why do you think I live out here away from everyone?”

Her face softened and she leaned against the counter to study him. “You’re not from here either, are you?”

Though it’d been a few years, his accent still stubbornly remained unaltered. “England. Mum was Irish though.”

“ _Was_?” Emma asked, gently.

“Died when I was young. Barely knew her.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

They finished cleaning up the kitchen in silence and when the last plate was placed back in the cabinet Killian drew a bottle of rum from the counter.

“Care for a nip? I think we’ve both earned it after today.” 

Emma nodded. “Alright.”

With a glass in hand, she walked outside and sat on the stone steps. He followed sitting a few steps behind her.

It was nearly dark now with just a few wispy grey clouds still visible on the horizon. They drained their glasses and listened to the waves beat against the rocks below. The air was cool and refreshing.

After a lengthy silence Emma sighed and rolled the empty glass back and forth between her palms.

“It’s peaceful here. I can see why you like it. Thank you again for rescuing me, Killian. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to—“ her voice faltered before catching in her throat.

He opened his mouth to dismiss it, but she turned around sharply. In the light of the cottage, he noticed that her eyes were wet with tears and darkened with worry.

“But I fear that I’ve now put you in danger.”

The skin on his neck prickled at the tone of her voice. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought of someone being after this woman.

He wanted to comfort her somehow, but what could he say when he didn’t know the situation that she was facing. What if it was something truly terrible?

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time.” He attempted a smile, but her unwavering expression made it fall flat. “Don’t worry about me, love.”

She turned away from him and he was unable to read the back of her head for any further insights into the matter. They sat in silence a few minutes more before Killian suggested they get some rest.

“You’re safe here,” Killian said as they separated to their bedrooms. He stooped a little so that he could look her straight in the eye for further reassurance. “I mean it.”

She looked exhausted. The weariness stemmed not only from of the ordeal she’d gone through that day but also from the weight she seemed to carry on her shoulders. “I hope so. Goodnight, Killian.”

“Goodnight. _Emma_.”

Though he’d been honest with her regarding his confidence in her safety, it didn’t stop him from retrieving a knife from the kitchen drawer and storing it in his nightstand. _Just in case_.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Killian’s apprehension, the next few days passed without incident and both he and Emma settled into a comfortable cohabitation.

Though Killian woke every day before dawn, Emma always managed to beat him to the kitchen in the mornings and get the coffee brewing. They ate their cereal and toast with minimal conversation. While Killian took the boat out, Emma stayed at the cabin and read or tended to the small, overgrown garden in the back that he had let run wild. After a few days of work, she had a patch cleared and planted a few rows of vegetables from seeds that he’d brought her from town. In the evenings, he returned with ingredients for dinner, often consisting of fresh fish from that day’s catch, which they prepared side by side while sharing stories from their day.  Afterwards they shared a glass of rum and were soon off to bed.

The routine was comfortable and easy, like the most natural thing in the world to have happened, but the nagging worry Killian felt about Emma’s words that first night made him unable to ever relax as completely as he wanted to. He wasn’t worried for himself, he’d been in enough scrapes and survived, but whatever ordeal Emma had been through had been serious enough for her to flee and want to stay hidden. It kept him always a little on edge. He found himself always on the lookout for strangers in town or unknown boats on the horizon. It helped that he lived isolated on the cliffs, giving the advantage of spotting an intruder before they could act, but when he was dealing with the unknown he could never be sure of anything.

“Did they hurt you?” he blurted out one night as they stared at the sliver of moon that hung over the ocean.

“What?” she said dazed, having been lost in her own thoughts.

“These people whom you ran from. Did they ever…hurt you?” It was hard to ask delicately. His nostrils flared just thinking about the possibility of such a crime. But if she might need help—

“Oh,” she said picking up on his meaning before explaining quickly, “No, nothing like that.” A pause. “It was nothing physical.”

Though he was grateful for this, it did little to ease his mind. “People can hurt without laying a hand on someone. Sometimes worse.” The dark memories wanted to creep in, but he forced himself to stay present.

She sighed with a shaky breath. “They threatened to hurt my son.”

This he was not expecting. “Oh.”

“He’s safe though with his mother, his _real_ mother. Now I think it was more of an empty threat to keep me from escaping and it worked.”

“I…see,” Killian said, though he really didn’t quite know what to make of it.

Emma turned toward him and must have seen a need for further explanation. “Teenage mother,” she said jerking a thumb towards herself. “I gave him up for adoption. He found me about six months ago despite it being a closed adoption—he’s a smart kid. We were starting to reconnect and then this all happened.”

Killian remained quiet while Emma seemed to gather up her courage in a deep breath.

“I was always afraid that I wouldn’t be a good mother. I wasn’t exactly a model child myself. I did a lot of stupid shit growing up and I thought—“ Her voice broke ever-so-slightly before she regained control and continued. “But after I met Henry–I don’t know. I feel like I could have done it. I could have been a good mother for him.”

It was the first sign of vulnerability that Killian had seen in her and he longed to reach out and offer comfort, but he wasn’t quite sure it was a good idea given the precariousness of their situation. He didn’t want to drive her away when she found safety here. He’d let her make the first move, if there was one.

“You couldn’t have been near as rubbish a parent as my father. After my mum died, he abandoned my brother and I. We had to figure out how to survive on the streets on our own. He made sure we were never separated. If it weren’t for him, I probably would’ve ended up dead in a ditch somewhere. He taught me how to survive.”

“My God, I’m so sorry.” Her large eyes were studying him with such a pained expression that he had to turn away.

He waved it off and steeled himself again. “It was a long time ago.”

Emma drew her arms around herself and hugged for warmth as the cool breeze kicked up again. “Sometimes the people you love most cause you the most pain. It’s so unfair.”

“Aye,” he said softly, wondering what had happened to her to lead to this grim conclusion. “But we’re both still here. You’re a survivor, Emma. We both are.”

 

* * *

 

“There’s talk, you know, in town,” Smee announced the next morning as they cast off from the shore. Flannigan was at the helm steering them towards the sea and out of hearing distance, though he wasn’t one for contributing to a conversation anyway.

Killian turned to his deckhand, baffled.

“About a woman. In your house,” Smee explained with growing excitement.

Killian scoffed with indifference but silently cursed to himself. He knew it wouldn’t be long until he was discovered no wonder how discreet he’d been. This small town had too many prying eyes with nothing better than to gossip about each other over their pints at the pub.

“What of it?” he asked, annoyed, as he passed by to check the main line. 

“Well, where’d she come from? She couldn’t’ve just appeared out of nowhere,” Smee asked following at his heels.

“Why does it matter?”

“Bet she’s pretty, isn’t she? One of the fellas said they saw a beautiful blonde lass up on the rocks near your place.” He paused to study Killian’s reaction. “You like her, don’t you?”

“It’s not like that,” Killian barked. “She’s just staying with me until she can get back on her feet. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“Aye, Captain,” Smee said with a smirk and a gleam in his eye that didn’t sit well with Killian.

He grabbed Smee by the collar with a forceful jerk and glared into the deckhand’s eyes. “I mean it, Smee. If I hear you starting any rumors, you won’t be able to use that mouth of yours for the foreseeable future. Do you understand?”

The man paled and whimpered slightly. “I won’t, Captain. I promise.” Killian let go with a shove causing Smee to stumble backwards on the deck.  “I-I’m sorry, I just thought you might want to know what people were sayin’ in town.”

“And why should I care what a bunch of drunk gossips are saying? People need to mind their damn own business.”

Smee nodded meekly. “It’s just…I haven’t see you sober for this long, not since—“ 

He may not be the brightest bulb, but Smee knew better than to continue with that thought. “It’s just good to see you like this, Killian. You deserve some happiness too.”

Killian turned away and busied himself with untangling a length of rope.

“Smee—” The man turned toward him eagerly, probably hoping for some sort of appreciation, but he wasn’t going to get that today. “The nets,” Killian said sternly, pointing to the stern.

“Aye, Captain.”

As the man hurried off to get to work, Killian allowed himself a small smile.

 _Damn it_ , he was happy, perhaps even content. His mind was clearer than it had been in ages. The dark thoughts still lurked, but right now they didn’t seem quite so pressing. He liked being with Emma and the casualness of their relationship. It was nice to have something to look forward to, someone to go home to.

_Perhaps—_

But he didn’t allow himself think any more on the subject for the time being. Hope was a funny thing and right now he just wanted to simply live in the moment and enjoy this new reality.

Come what may.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million apologies for the delay! Thanks to those of you who are still following!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [ dreamswans](http://dreamswans.tumblr.com) on tumblr. Feel free to say hello!


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